Another Letter Unsent
by TheVeiledsatyr
Summary: Letters written to friends by Remus Lupin in his year as a Professor, and never sent. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer**: The world of Harry Potter and it's characters are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.

**A/N**: This piece alludes to a slash relationship between Remus & Sirius. If this is offensive to you, or you do not agree to slash in fiction, please do not continue past this point. Reviews and any critiques are most welcome. Thank you.

* * *

You have escaped. I couldn't believe it at first, no one escapes from Azkaban. But then, you aren't just anyone, are you? Always the smartest, the most skilled. Your master must have taught you some new tricks as well. How did you do it? It doesn't matter. I should have known that if it was at all possible, it would be you. The smartest, the most skilled. How could you do it? But then, we aren't talking about your escape now, are we? It still doesn't matter. The past remains the past, no matter how many years go by.

- R.J.L

* * *

Dumbledore visited last night. He asked if I would fill the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. Ironic, I know. Getting a dark creature to teach children about other dark creatures. The position is still cursed, but in some ways it is a blessing to me. To be able to revisit the place that first felt like home. Of course, it could never be home without you. Without James, and Peter, and all the other friends that now exist only in the past. Remember how you always joked that I would be a good professor? You even bought me a briefcase, embossed with my initials. Remember? It's battered and old now, much like myself, I suppose. And as I sit here and stuff the last shrivelled tatters of my existence into this worn and weary briefcase - the last things you left to me - all I can think is 'traitor'. Me, for feeling excited. You, for everything else.

- R.J.L

* * *

It should have been a surprise to wake to Harry's face on the Hogwarts express, but of course, that was how I met James the first time too. They look the same. They look the same, and I haven't felt such a rush of elation or soul crushing pain in so long, I thought my heart might burst from the shock. He has your eyes. Your heart too, I would hazard a guess. He heard your voice on the train. No, not your voice, your scream. He heard you die, and that is the sound that haunts him when Dementors draw near. It is a sound that haunts me too. Not because I have heard it, no, but because I did not. Because I was not there to protect you, to protect James, to save Harry from these waking nightmares. So I will do my best to save him now, I will look out for him with the time I have left. Teach him as much as I can. But know that it kills me, Lily, that I am here and you are not. To know you died in pain, and that Harry now knows it too.

R.J.L

* * *

Even after all these years, I hate that I am a prisoner to the passage of the moon. You hated it too, didn't you? Not the moon, no, but the night sky. I remember we both loathed astronomy. Staring up at that great expanse that both captivated and destroyed us. My reasoning was obvious, the moon makes me a monster. But yours? Well your family was up there, weren't they? That was all you saw. Your family amongst those cold, distant stars. And to you, I suppose, you feared they made you a monster too. The scariest thing is that you never were a monster. How could you be? When you loved me. I am the real monster, nothing you could ever do would compare to that. Nothing amongst all the stars could be as dark as what is inside me. I hate that you left me here alone under this sky. That you aren't here to insist that I'm good, that I'm beautiful, like you always did when we were boys. But mostly, mostly, I just hate you.

- R.J.L

* * *

Your son is thirteen years old and today he produced a Patronus. Not a misty haze. A real, true, corporeal Patronus. Today I saw you for the first time in twelve years. Looking at Harry is always bittersweet; like looking at a photo that's slightly blurred. He is so like you, and yet, so very, very different. But today I saw Prongs gallop once more, and James, how my heart ached.

R.J.L

* * *

The map returned to it's maker today. For all the charms and spells we put on it, it must have formed a mind of it's own, because it was in the hands of your son. Perhaps it wanted to be close to us again, it certainly managed to do so either way. Snape tried to take it off Harry, did I tell you Severus is here? Potions master. He makes the wolfsbane potion for me. I suppose I should be grateful to him for that, at least. The map wouldn't let him read it, I must admit I found it hard to keep a straight face. At least we know the charms that you and Sirius placed on it work well. Having it back is almost like having a part of you back. Us, as we were at seventeen. Is it awful that it makes me feel less alone?

- R.J.L

* * *

You have been here, in the castle. In Harry's dormitory. How are you here Sirius? How did you get here? To the point where murdering your best friend's child in cold blood is a choice. Where did we go wrong all those years ago? Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps you are the monster. But no, because for all that I know you must be using the old passageways into the castle, and surely you must be Padfoot once more, I cannot bring myself to tell a soul. And worse, my first thought was not horror that you have been here, it was regret that you were not here for me.

- R.J.L

* * *

I saw your name on the map, Peter. Sitting in the Gryffindor common room just like you had never left, and my first thought was 'poor Wormtail, poor little Peter, I must miss you so much that I'm starting to see things'. But then I looked again, and the other names weren't James and Sirius, they were Harry and Ron. I drew that map, Peter. Sirius and James laid the charms, and you, you scuttled about and found all those hidden places. The map was our greatest achievement, and it is never wrong, Peter. But how can you be here, when you died so long ago? I must be going crazy, because the map is never wrong.

- R.J.L

* * *

Last night you were Padfoot again. You were Padfoot, and we ran under that cursed moon together, and I was torn apart, stripped down, destroyed like every single full moon I can remember, but for the first time in what feels like forever, I felt something more. Something more because you were there with me. You were Padfoot, and I was Moony, and twelve years dissolved. It felt like you had never left. Do you know, no one has called me Moony since that last night? You told me you loved me, but you still slept on the other side of the bed, and when I woke, you were gone. When I woke this morning you were gone again, but when the memories of the wolf drenched me with the blood, and sweat, and tears that accompany this gods forsaken curse, I remembered you running beside me. I forgot how much I missed you. I still miss you. Forgive me.

- R.J.L


End file.
